Meetings
by Naela
Summary: Ten years after Legacy of the Void, Sarah Kerrigan encounters a Ghost. Post SC2 assumptions, one-shot.


**Meetings**

He received a summons from the Emperor.

_We need to speak. Come see me at your earliest convenience._

In the years since he'd known Valerian, a personal invitation wasn't precisely something out of the ordinary. With an empire still recovering from one too many devastating wars—the last and most recent still too horrifying for any sane citizen to rest too easily in these times of peace—there was always some matter or another of importance that Valerian needed to discuss with him in person rather than through the convenience of a communicator.

Considering the schedule that Valerian kept these days, Raynor should have been flattered that he insisted on conducting these meetings face to face. Running an empire was no easy feat and there was no debating the fact that Valerian was the busiest man in the sector, his attention pulled back and forth by dignitaries and various important issues of state.

Knowing how little free time Valerian had on most days, Raynor had to wonder about the purpose of the summons. The message itself was impersonal, short and to the point. There were no hints of what the subject of their meeting would be, but this was done intentionally. Valerian knew Raynor well enough that his curiosity would win over his stubbornness and that curiosity would spur Raynor to see him sooner rather than later.

Even knowing of Valerian's attempts at manipulation, Raynor went straight for the palace the very next day. He took the longer, more circuitous route, bypassing Memorial Square where once the imposing statue of Arcturus Mengsk stood tall. There was a new statue there now, erected a mere year after the end of the last war, made in the likeness of a fallen hero. It towered over buildings just as its predecessor did, but this one was meant to protect and guide, a symbol to honour the peace they were all now currently enjoying.

He took one of the many secret entrances to the palace rather than go through the grand entrance with its dazzling architecture, overdone with displays of wealth and opulence from the golden effigies of mythical heroes down to the dozens upon dozens of guards that stood on constant duty. A holdover from Arcturus Mengsk's reign that left a sour taste to Raynor's mouth on those occasions when avoiding it wasn't an option. Since inheriting the palace along with an Empire, Valerian hadn't bothered with any unnecessary changes, merely repaired the damages from the wars before assuming the more important duties of a reigning monarch.

Valerian was expecting him when he entered his office. No surprise there with the extensive information network that he had at his fingertips now. In place of overt displays of military might, Valerian chose subtler methods of cementing his power. No small conflict in the sector could go by unnoticed, no minor alliance between unsavoury crime lords could happen without him knowing within an hour. Knowledge was a power that he utilized with frightening efficiency.

For all of his insistence that he was a different man than his father, Valerian still shared a number of similarities with Arcturus. There was that flair for theatrics that he possessed, even here in the privacy of his office, he was putting on a show. Valerian stood before the wide windows of his office—his father's office—with his back turned to Raynor, perfectly centered so that the midday's light would cast him in shadow.

Raynor wasn't intimidated, he noted the mess of papers on the desk and the absence of any guards. It must have been a busy afternoon for him, but still Valerian managed to make arrangements for them to be alone.

"You wanted to talk?" He joined him at the window, indulging in the view of the sprawling capitol. Memorial Square was directly in front of them with its vast monument gleaming so brightly in the sun that it was blinding. Below he could see Augustgrad's citizens going about their daily lives, they were so small that they were more like coloured specks than actual people. It was a small wonder that an Emperor could overlook the finer details when all he could ever see was the bigger picture.

"Good afternoon to you too," Valerian said dryly. He spared the view one last look and strolled over to his desk, settling into a rather comfortable and expensive looking leather chair.

"You know how I feel about small talk."

"Still, pleasantries and traditions should be met to some degree at least." Rather than return to his work, Valerian was watching him from his seat, elbow propped on the arm of his chair with his chin resting on his palm. He smiled at Raynor. "Otherwise you might just offend someone important."

Raynor made an exasperated sigh. "Did you really ask for me to come all this way just so you can give me a lesson in manners? Unlike a certain someone here, I have better things to do with my time."

"We're going to have a talk about that at some point in the future," Valerian said. He turned to his desk to shuffle papers until they were properly aligned. From this angle, Raynor could see the streaks of white in the emperor's hair, swept back back in his usual ponytail. "Given your status in the Dominion, we can't have you walking around insulting every dignitary you meet just because you're not fond of small talk. That's how wars are started, you know."

"Really, I thought they were started when megalomaniacal tyrants try to take power." He was trying to provoke, but Valerian remained composed, more amused than irritated.

"And how did you think my father started his wars?" Valerian asked simply. He picked up a fountain pen and began to write away on his papers. In an age where simply speaking out loud could have his thoughts recorded for ages to come by advanced AI, Valerian still preferred the old fashioned method of pen and paper. It had something to do with writing down his thoughts directly that let them flow better—or so he claimed. Seeing him so calm had Raynor clenching his jaw.

"By abandoning an off the charts psionic to the zerg?" he retorted.

"Well, there's that, but try to think beyond Kerrigan. My father engaged in other wars too, some of them that could have easily been avoided if he'd exercised a little more diplomacy," Valerian set down his pen, glanced at his work and then up at Raynor. "What I'm saying here is that things might not have ended the way they did for him if he'd just put a little more thought into his words and his actions."

Raynor frowned and moved to sink into one of the large chairs before the Emperor's desk. "What are you getting at?"

Valerian watched him and in that moment Raynor could see that his composure was fraying, a small slip up that made him look tired and weary. The silence stretched and it seemed as though the Emperor was debating with himself, finally with a heavy sigh, he looked back down at his papers and resumed writing.

"She's on Shiloh."

Raynor jumped out of his seat, his heart pounding against his chest. He didn't need to ask who _she_ was supposed to be to know who Valerian was referring to. "You're sure?"

Valerian gave him a look. "This is me you're talking to, of course I'm sure."

"I don't understand. What's she doing there?"

"Well, I'm not sure I could really begin to fathom why she would choose the former home of celebrated hero James Raynor as her current place of residence," Valerian said with a snort and grew serious in a heartbeat. "I know I'm wasting my breath telling you this, but she's been in hiding all these years for a reason. Going to her is a bad idea that'll only result in disaster for not just you, but for her as well."

Raynor swallowed thickly and lowered himself back into his chair. Reality was rushing back at him at dizzying speeds, the adrenaline was still there in his systems making it difficult for him to focus when his body was close trembling. He knew Valerian was right, that he should just leave these issues be, but the ghosts of his past still continued to haunt him. There were questions, so many questions that he needed to ask. More importantly, he needed to see her.

"I know," he said weakly.

Valerian looked at him thoughtfully and after several moments, put his pen down to sit back in his chair. "I just implore for you to actually think for once when you go see her. I know what she means to you and there's no doubt in my mind that we all owe her a debt of gratitude for what she's done for us, but she's still a dangerous woman."

Raynor scowled at Valerian. "I know very well of what she's capable of."

"So you won't consider letting Nova escort you then?"

"No."

"It was worth a try," Valerian said and went back to his work. "I already took the liberty of having a ship prepped and ready for you."

"Thank you." Raynor's voice was hollow. When Valerian didn't answer, he closed the distance between them until he was standing right at his desk. The Emperor looked up, caught off guard, but was able to smooth away his surprise. Raynor held out a hand with a tremulous smile. "Thank you for everything."

With an eyebrow arched, Valerian rose from his seat, taking the proffered hand in a firm shake. Letting go of Raynor's hand, his stern expression melted into a fond smile. "I knew there were _some_ manners in you after all."

* * *

Shiloh hadn't changed, not ten years later with the fall of empires and the rise of new rulers, barely affected by the wars that once had the entire sector fighting tooth and nail just to survive. Caught up in its own bubble of time and isolated from the rest of the sector, this insignificant backwater world would continue to endure whatever upheaval the galaxy found itself in. Here everything remained the same, the seasons were still harsh and the people were still as unwelcoming as ever to outsiders.

Knowing this, Raynor chose to avoid the local port cities, choosing to land just outside a small farm instead. His hands were steady as he went about the routine of shutting down the ship, his breath was even and his thoughts clear. Still, Raynor found himself sitting in the pilot's chair for a good fifteen minutes, gazing steadily out of the cockpit window at the small farmstead. The place was run down after all these years, but there were tell-tale signs of life. He spotted clothes flapping on a line, and not too far away was a small vegetable garden lovingly tended to.

When he saw movement in one of the windows of the dilapidated house, Raynor decided to make his presence known. No doubt she was already aware of him, but seeing him out in the open would likely put her at ease. He left his rifle safely tucked away behind his seat and exited the ship, taking slow and measured steps down the ramp until he was in clear view.

A harsh wind assaulted him, threw his hair into his face and dust into his eyes, but it was a balm against the intense heat even this late in the day. He stood waiting in an endless field of golden grass that rippled like an ocean current. Eventually a shadow emerged from the shelter of the dilapidated house, moving with catlike grace towards him. Watching her stalk through the grass, Raynor was reminded of a predator on the prowl. There was danger here if he didn't step lightly and he almost wished that he hadn't left his rifle on the ship.

She held his gaze the entire time, green eyes hard and inscrutable. Neither of them bothered to speak, though Raynor doubted that he would have found the words at any rate. There was another sharp gust of wind that kicked up a spray of dust between them, forcing Raynor to blink against it to clear his vision. She chose to stop several feet away, unaffected but refusing to move any closer.

After all these years, Sarah Kerrigan was still as beautiful as ever with no zerg mutations to mar her features. Her long red hair writhed behind her in the wind, tied loosely in in a ponytail. Having traded in her hostile environment suit long ago, she stood before him wearing a yellow sundress, bearing no visible weapons. He knew better than to believe that she was completely unarmed, for a Ghost, old habits died hard.

Her expression was severe as she studied him, making no pretence in hiding the fact that she was doing so at all. There was a presence in his mind, full of restrained power as it brushed against his thoughts. Raynor did his best to suppress a shiver until it retreated.

Seemingly satisfied with what she found, Kerrigan looked him up and down one final time and finally spoke. "You look just like him."

Raynor tilted his head, glancing down at himself, dressed in a hostile environment suit that he'd donned out of habit. He'd heard that one before, plenty of times in fact, from Valerian to Matt to people he didn't know. Again and again, until Raynor was almost sick of hearing it, but having played this conversation out a dozen times in his head on the trip here, he wasn't surprised that this was the first thing she would say to him.

"So I've been told," he murmured.

Kerrigan peered down at him, despite their surroundings and the plain clothes that she wore, he had the impression of being in the presence of a queen. An exiled queen who chose to hide from the galaxy rather than face it after the death of the man she loved, after sacrificing nearly everything to ensure that there would still be a galaxy.

Her expression was guarded, but Raynor could sense the echoes of pain emanating from her. Nothing changed in her composure, but that sense of danger he had earlier was gone and along with it his apprehension. With the wind tugging at her dress, she turned abruptly. "Come inside."

He followed her into the house, stepping over rotting steps that creaked loudly under his weight. The interior of the house was at least kept in far better condition than the exterior. It dawned on Raynor that he was standing in his father's childhood home, where he used to play with laughter in his heart, completely unaware of the future that awaited him.

Kerrigan led him through a surprisingly cozy living room to a small kitchen where there was a kettle already boiling on the stove. "Sit," she commanded, gesturing at a rickety table and a small collection of wooden chairs.

Feeling completely out of his element, Raynor complied, sitting awkwardly on one of the chairs as he gazed around him. Framed pictures hanging on the wall beside him caught his attention, still images of a boy with unruly black hair smiled back at him, sometimes alone and sometimes in the company of a wife and husband.

"He never spoke of his parents," Kerrigan said softly from beside him, having moved so quietly and swiftly from the stove that her sudden presence startled him. If she'd noticed his surprise, she gave no indication, instead she placed two cups on the table and began to pour. Steam swirled above the cups as she drew back and fixed a pointed look at him. "Then again, he rarely spoke of you either."

"He didn't know I was… alive," Raynor said and glanced down at the drink Kerrigan slid towards him. Tea, he assumed, though he couldn't be certain, but it smelled like something that Valerian would favour.

"He told me that you were dead." Kerrigan took the seat opposite from him and cradled her own cup between both hands. "Whenever he spoke of you and your mother there was… a lot of pain."

Raynor couldn't meet her gaze. He knew even less about his own mother than he did of his father, there were barely any records on Liddy Raynor, only a few official certificates and a poorly captured image of her when she'd been young, long before she'd married his father. At least with James Raynor there were plenty of people around who'd known his father personally and could even regale him with stories of his past exploits, but there was not a soul in the galaxy who knew of his mother.

"I was in the Ghost Program," he said and saw her tense. "From what I understand the Confederacy faked the whole thing about my death."

"And now you're a Ghost," Kerrigan said, her gaze drifting over his suit with barely concealed disgust. She looked back up at him with a raised eyebrow. "You would have been young when the Confederacy took you and I know from personal experience that they're quick to erase any memories you have of your past."

Raynor felt self-conscious under her scrutiny and resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably in his seat like a child who'd done something wrong. There was no shame in what he was, although he knew the training he'd undergone was morally questionable at best, but things had changed under Valerian's rule. Given her history with the Ghost program, he was certain she wouldn't believe him if he tried to explain and decided not to bother at all. "They did. I don't really remember a lot," he admitted. "It was Mengsk who found me and he was the one who told me about my father."

Kerrigan narrowed her eyes. "Valerian."

He nearly winced at his misstep, quickly dropping his gaze to stare down at his hands pressed against the tarnished wood of the table. His tea was left untouched, he doubted that it was poisoned, but Raynor was always wary about accepting food or drink from strangers and that was what Kerrigan was to him, a stranger. He might know far too much about her than necessary through second hand sources, but he didn't really know Kerrigan. She was a woman his father had loved dearly and also a monster who responsible for the deaths of billions, but in the end, she'd also been the one who'd saved them all. She was a puzzle that Raynor had yet to solve in this tangled mystery of his father's past.

The long stretch of awkward silence was broken when Kerrigan sighed. "I'm sorry. There are a lot of bad memories for me when it comes to Valerian's father."

"I know."

She tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear and glanced away. "So, Valerian found you. Only fitting, I suppose."

"He's helped raise me," Raynor said quickly. He felt a need to speak in defence of the man who'd acted as a father figure in the absence of a real one. "Him and Matt, they keep close tabs on me. Out of loyalty to my father, I guess."

"I wish I'd known," Kerrigan murmured. She was looking at him again with an expression so full of regret that he couldn't begin to fathom what she actually saw. Noticing his discomfort, Kerrigan shook her head, her expression growing grim once more. "How old are you now? Sixteen? A little young to be a Ghost."

Raynor bristled at the mention of his age. Along with the constant comparisons to his father, people around him had a habit of underestimating him because of his youth. "Nineteen, actually and I've been in training since I was nine. You and Nova weren't any older when you became Ghosts."

"The times were a bit different," Kerrigan said tersely. She finished off her tea and stood, going for the kettle to pour herself another cup. His still remained untouched, having long since grown cold, but remembering Valerian's old lectures, he made an effort to take a few sips. Kerrigan remained standing by the stove with her fingers pressed to her soft lips as she stared out of the window above the sink, lost in thought. "The memories are still there," she murmured, meeting his eye. "The Ghost Program can only suppress them, not erase them. I can show you how to access them if you'd like."

His voice caught in his throat and all he could manage was a wordless nod. To have memories of his parents again rather than the hazy images he carried with him, he felt a twist in his heart at the thought. He'd known for the longest time that Kerrigan was supposed to be a powerful psionic, but not even Nova had been able to help him with what he'd thought was permanent Ghost conditioning.

"How…?" he asked.

She smiled at him, there was a vague sadness in her eyes that he couldn't understand. "It'll take time. Undoing something's that meant to be permanent needs to be handled delicately."

"Of course." He tried to hide his disappointment, but Kerrigan's smile this time turned into one of amusement.

"We can begin tomorrow—if you're staying that long," Kerrigan looked questioningly at him.

"I have some free time," he said carefully. No one was expecting him for the next few months in fact, but Raynor was never fond of spending time in one place for too long.

He looked out the kitchen window and saw that it was already night, stars glittered in the sky, clear and beautiful unlike the view he would get from Korhal, obstructed by the city lights. If he were to stay the night he would probably need to head out and hope that he could find a place to stay in one of the nearby towns.

"You can stay here," Kerrigan said, cutting into his thoughts. He wasn't sure if she'd merely picked up on them or was just able to tell. It was annoying enough when he was around Nova, who was always rummaging around in his mind without his permission.

"I wouldn't want to presume…" he began.

"I have a spare room," she said. There was something about the way she spoke, something that Raynor would have pinpointed as desperation, or maybe loneliness, but it was impossible to think of Kerrigan being either when he still carried the image of a wrathful and capricious goddess in his mind. Except it made sense, all Raynor had to do was look around him. Living here with only grief to keep her company for all these years, he could understand in some ways why she wanted him to stay.

He found that he didn't want to leave her either, this woman who could have easily been his mother had things been different. His father had sacrificed himself so that she could live, the least he could do was keep her company for a few more days. Maybe come visit her when he had time and hopefully, convince her to leave this self-imposed exile that she kept.

"All right," he agreed and smiled at her. "I can stay here for a few days, if you're sure."

"Of course I am." Kerrigan seemed to relax, even the smile she favoured him with seemed more natural. A thought struck her and she instantly grew sober. "But on one condition."

"What?" Raynor asked. He was wary, remembering Valerian's warnings.

"That you call me Sarah."

It was a promise he found that he could easily keep and with no need for further words, Raynor finished the last of his tea.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Ever since Metzen more or less confirmed that John Raynor was alive (well okay, strongly hinted) I've been fascinated with the idea of seeing him make an appearance in the SC universe again for some sort of dramatic reunion between father and son. Originally I was planning to write something out between Jim and John, but a meeting between Sarah and John kinda slid into my head and demanded that I write that out instead.

Although the main purpose of this fic was just to have a bit of practice in the SC universe since I've taken quite a bit of a hiatus since the last time I posted anything here. Hopefully you guys enjoyed this bit of self-indulgence! Reviews of course would be loved!


End file.
